


For Every Heart That We Have Forsaken

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Eventual Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Melodrama, Past Relationship(s), Sappy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: For the Mag7Week prompt: AftermathGoody wakes up in Rose Creek after the battle is won, but finds out he's lost something much more precious. As it turns out, while Billy survived too, he's already left. And Goody has to fiigure out how to move on without the love of his life.or: that angsty fic where Billy after getting the time to think about things realizes he can't forgive Goody so easily for leaving, and so this time decides to leave first. And Goody has to move on, which among other things involves moving to Montana and watch cows in a mountain valley together with an old ex boyfriend of his. And maybe facing some truths about himself.





	For Every Heart That We Have Forsaken

Light stung his eyes even though they were closed. His head throbbed with a headache worse than any hung-over morning, after a night of drinking everything in sight, and his whole body felt like one massive bruise, a dull pain from his toes and all the way to his head and the aforementioned headache.

It used to be worse though, his mind supplied, a sense memory of screaming himself hoarse from sharp stabbing pain wracking his body, and he can still taste blood on his tongue.

His throat felt dry and he wished for water as he licked his dry chapped lips. He ran his tongue over his teeth and felt an empty spot, a hole where the fake gold tooth had been, and he wondered what had happened to it.

He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes from the light in the room, but cold pain radiated from his wrist and up through his arm. He gasped and groaned dropping his hand to the bed with a dull thud. His hands felt numb and for a moment he couldn't be sure he still had fingers, because he couldn't feel them.

He opened his eyes slowly, the bright light making him blink several times, before he started to get used to it. He could see his arms, he still had them presumably, though they were wrapped in heavy bandages and it was not entirely easy to determine if he still had his fingers.

Tilting his head to the side he spotted Sam sitting in a chair next to his bed, and he couldn’t explain the pang of disappointment. He should be happy to see Sam, but he wasn’t. Something was missing.

"Hurts," Goody croaked, voice unused to talking, and throat raw and still healing.

"Pain means you're still alive," Sam said. 

Goody bit back the impulse to say he wished he wasn’t, he can't remember why he would wish that on himself, but in that instance he knew for sure that he wished he was. Knew from the bottom of his heart that it would have been better to not have woken up at all again, even though he doesn’t know why he feels that way.

He had been going in and out of it. Aware and conscious one minute, and the next dragged under by laudanum, exhaustion and pain. His mind made up of hazy fragments of memories, of being alone, of silence; memories of voices speaking in hushed tones, whispering words he couldn't hear or simply can't remember.

He had no idea how long he’d been bedridden, but he could assume it had been a while.

Goody opened his eyes again, not aware he had closed them. He glanced around the small room, realizing he had no idea where he was, if he's been told he's forgotten. The only other person there is Sam, sitting in the chair and watching Goody with an expression of concern.

"Where," Goody coughed. "Billy?"

“He said he talked to you,” Sam said gently, a frown line between his eyes.

A fragmented memory started to take shape in Goody’s mind. Of Billy sitting where Sam was sitting right now, only closer, but just as Sam not touching Goody, instead wringing his hands in his lap. Something Goody had almost never seen him do in the past. Billy’s injuries had been bad, Goody remembered being told, but not as bad as Goody’s, and he had healed faster.

“I was,” Billy had hesitated, not meeting Goody’s eyes. Voice oddly emotionless. “I was so overjoyed that you came back,” Billy had said. “But I’ve had time to think, I’ve had nothing but time to think as I lay in bed.” Billy had looked at Goody, hurt evident in his eyes, and Goody had both then and now, as he remembered it, wanted to pull Billy close; to hold him; wanted to bury his face in Billy’s neck, and whisper his pleas for forgiveness into Billy’s skin.

“You left,” Billy had said, his voice breaking, Goody’s heart ached. “I don’t– I don’t think I can handle it again.”

Goody had tried to croak Billy’s name, had tried to say something but he had barely been lucid.

“I can’t, Goody. I just– I can’t.” it had sounded like the words had been forced out through gritted teeth, like just looking at Goody and telling him as much was paining him.

Goody at last understood that empty feeling in his chest. He blinked a couple of times, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Sam didn’t have to say anything.

“He left,” Goody said, no surprise, no recrimination. Sam didn’t nod, didn’t have to say anything at all in confirmation. Just a twitch of his eyes, frown line deepening.

“Serves me right,” Goody said, and there was the recrimination, directed inward. 

Sam’s expression changed, and he looked at Goody with undisguised pity. Goody didn’t deserve pity, not for this, but he didn’t say anything. He and Sam had once had a conversation about Goody’s feelings of self doubt; if quoted verse tossed back and forth could ever be called a conversation.

“I told him to wait until you were better... On your feet again,” Sam said.

Goody looked towards the window. He couldn’t blame Billy; couldn’t blame him for leaving when he felt the way he did; resentment festering in his chest, every time he would have looked at Goody it would have been growing where there once had been love.

Goody’s heart had been broken in the past, he knew how painful it could be, and yet nothing could have prepared him for how shattered he now felt. He felt like he was drifting on a black ocean, nowhere to moor. The ground had disappeared not just from underneath his feet but also from his sight, and he felt unsteady in this new and harsh world where the light stung in his eyes, and his chest echoed empty and hollow.

“Goody,” Sam said, and Goody wished he would leave because he didn’t want the man to watch him cry. Wanted to keep some dignity in front of the man who had seen him at his weakest not once but twice before; but perhaps there was no more dignity to scrape together.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. Goody closed his eyes. Screwing them so tightly shut that he could almost believe it was dark enough to hide himself.

“Don’t be,” Goody said. “We’re both alive. That–” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “That will have to be enough.”

While the ashes of his life were cold and held nothing for him anymore, at least he wouldn’t have Billy’s death on his conscience.

~

No one came to visit him except for Sam. If it was because Sam had decided he needed rest and not to be bothered, or if everyone were just avoiding the man who rode out on them on the eve of battle, he didn’t know. He didn’t ask. He was quite happy to be left alone with his pain.

What he did ask about was if they had won, and Sam told him. Told him about Faraday sacrificing himself by taking out the gatling gun; about the Indian fellow Bogue had brought who put a dozen arrows in Horne’s chest, and Red killing him; about Vasquez taking out Bogue’s second hand man; about his own confrontation with Bogue, and how miss Emma had been the one in the end who put a bullet in Bogue.

“That don’t surprise me one bit,” Goody said, and watched his friend nod in agreement.

“Red said it was time he moved on,” Sam said. “Vasquez stayed to help rebuild, and I’ve been helping out as well. When I wasn’t looking after the t– you.”

Goody closed his eyes and tried to remember how to feel anything but cold empty apathy.

~

He left as soon as he could walk without keeling over. Goody had tried sneaking out, but once again Sam had caught him. He was wondering just how Sam almost always seemed to know exactly where Goody was and where he was going – he had only managed to slip away once undetected, or perhaps Sam had let him.

“You could stay longer,” Sam said. “You’re still pale.” Lips quirking. “Paler than usual that is, you’ve always been lily white.”

Goody would snort, if he remembered how.

“I’ve been locked in that room for months, Sam.”

“I don’t remember locking that door,” Sam said. Still trying to get a smile from Goody, and he tried, he really did, but he suspected from the look on Sam’s face that it came off more as a pained grimace.

He did accept the money Sam handed him.

“Don’t spend it all on drink,” Sam said. “Remember that alcohol isn’t food.”

“Remember that you aren’t my father,” Goody said. 

Goody’s actual father would never had told him that in the first place, he hadn’t cared that much what Goody was up to, as long as he didn’t embarrass the family – which had been Goody’s main motivation for getting caught sucking off Richard Campbell III in the stable when they were both sixteen; most of the things Goody had gotten up to back then had been to spite his father.

“Keep in touch,” Sam said, looking up at Goody before he set off. A look of genuine concern on his face, in the early morning light. 

Looking at his expression he wondered how Sam would react if Goody did in fact drink himself into a grave, and briefly wondered if Billy would even hear about it, unsure what he hoped for; Billy finding out, or continuing life in ignorant bliss, perhaps eventually moving on and forgetting about Goody all together. His insides twisted painfully in his chest.

“I don’t like goodbyes,” Goody said.

“See you around, Goodnight,” Sam said. Goody tipped his hat towards him and clicked to his horse, setting off in a trot. Leaving a still sleepy Rose Creek behind.

~

He rode to the nearest small town, which turned out to be not much different from Rose Creek, but the name of which Goody didn’t pay much attention to. More interested in finding a saloon. Once he found one, tying his horse outside and venturing inside.

Inside was glum and he had to take a moment to let his eyes get used to it. Already there was the beginning of a pounding behind his forehead and eyes. There weren’t a lot of people around, a couple of men playing cards, one woman standing behind them, two men drinking at another table, and the barman wiping off a glass.

“Give me the strongest you’ve got,” Goody said when he sat down on a stool at the bar. 

The bartender hummed and set down a glass, picking up a bottle filled with clear liquid, and then paused before uncorking it. Goody set down a couple of coins on the countertop and the barman poured him a drink.

The drink burned going down, and he dropped a wad of cash on the counter top.

“You just keep the drinks coming, please.”

He quickly lost himself in a drunken haze, time losing all meaning and the cold empty feeling in his chest temporarily forgotten.

Goody didn’t know for how long he was there, could be hours, could be days. He drank until he was thrown out. Later he would have no idea how he made the journey from that one nameless town to San Francisco.

~

He was mostly sober by the time he stepped inside a Western Union office. He needed more money which meant he had to check the status of the account, the account he shared with Billy.

He knew exactly how much money they’d had in the account before they went to Rose Creek – the money they’d earned in Vulcano Springs they’d brought with them and hadn’t been wired into the account – and so when the sum quoted was half of what he expected his whole body started shaking. 

He felt something hot burning in his eyes, and he took a deep breath trying to keep himself together. He knew if he actually did start crying it would definitely be taken the wrong way, not to mention probably shock and worry the young lady working there. Instead he forced a poor facsimile of a smile and finished his business, withdrawing only a small sum of what was left. His breath hitched and he hurried outside, slinking into an alley.

He leaned against the wall tipping his head back, hitting the back of it hard against the wall. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep slow breaths, trying to stop his trembling. He didn’t quite know what to do with the conflicting emotions.

Something close to relief because of the confirmation that Billy was alive out there somewhere. A sharp sting of longing as he imagined Billy going into the office and withdrawing his money. What had been going through his mind? How had he been feeling?

Later when he could think more rationally he’d at least feel good that Billy had been allowed to access the account. He had all the necessary documents of course, but he was Asian, so there had always been the risk he’d be refused.

For now though Goody sank down to the ground and buried his face in his hands. 

Billy had left, and he wasn’t coming back.

~

Form the first moment Goody had lad eyes on Billy he had been, perhaps not in love, but certainly attracted to him. It hadn’t taken long for him to fall head over heels though, if he was honest with himself – he tried not to be that honest too often – when Billy had relaxed around him and shown a dry sense of humor that tickled Goody’s amusement in just the right way. They got along very well, and Goody would have been more than happy just to continue to be friends with Billy. He had felt no need to pursue a romantic relationship with him. However he would have been a fool to say it hadn’t made him the happiest he had ever felt when it happened. 

Billy Rocks had been the best thing to ever happen to Goody, and now without him he was drifting from place to place, feeling in a weird way cut off from reality. It was as if the world had lost all its colors, all sounds, feelings, everything subdued, dulled.

A month went by after San Francisco. Goody drifted from town to town. Half drunk most of the time. Getting by on card games – not wanting to dip into the savings too often – to keep himself afloat. Another month passed and he kept telling himself that soon he would manage to move on. His chest would stop feeling so empty and cold. He would be happy again. Some days he almost believed the lies.

He circled back to northern California. Ended up in Sacramento and lost at least a week, perhaps more, in an opium den. His mind finally stopped spinning, and he didn’t need to think; didn’t need to feel anything at all anymore, everything was just a pleasant haze.

He was kicked out when he couldn’t pay more, and he went back to drifting through towns gambling, winning some losing some. Eventually ended up spending a couple of nights in a jail cell in Carson City due to being unable to pay off some gambling debts after a streak of borrowing and then losing it all right away. It too him some time to convince everyone that he could just wire for the money and pay everything back.

He was a little roughed up after the experience, and spent a month traveling without a real destination, not quite sure how he ended up in Arizona. He rode through a place called Fawcett where the people in the saloon were talking about a gunslinger coming through and showing off by beating all the men in town. Goody tuned them out. He tried, and failed, to not think about Billy.

He continued to drift through Arizona forgetting what he had heard in the saloon, until he approached Hub City and saw a large group of people gathered around one of the corrals on the outskirts of the city. As he drew closer he figured out it was a fast draw competition, and he left his horse tied up with a bunch of other horse at a water filled trough. He made his way through the crowd until he had almost reached the fence, when between two heads he spotted the man in the middle of the pen.

He looked as beautiful as the first time he saw him, face a little drawn and body perhaps a bit thinner, but he was still all lithe beauty and grace; energy coiled tight, a tiger ready to pounce. The sun shone on his dark hair, soft as silk Goody remembered it being. Sharp cheekbones and intense beautiful eyes. Breath caught in his throat Goody froze, and simply stared, unable to tear his eyes away. Billy drew his revolver, well before his opponent and fired at the metal can that was the target, hitting it so that it dropped off the fence with a clatter on the rocks below.

In his chest his heart twisted with longing and he wanted to reach out, wanted to call out Billy’s name. Wanted him to look at him, wanted so much his chest hurt.

“Billy wins,” the judge and announcer called out. Followed by another voice, it was a familiar voice, not in a “Goody knew the person”-way, but a familiar type of voice. The showman; a hype man.

“That’s how it’s done ladies and gentlemen,” a blond man, wearing a burgundy red shirt underneath a black waist coat which seemed to have threads which sparkled in the sun, a black bowler hat, and loud, shiny spurs came swaggering out into the middle of the corral.

“You’ve seen my clients work, who among you want to prove to your friends that you can beat this mysterious gentleman from the orient?”

Billy looked completely impassive, while the man continued to egg the audience on trying to get them to want to try and beat Billy. Goody’s stomach turned and something sour made its way up his throat and he swallowed hard. Closing his eyes for a second, the sun suddenly too bright, making his eyes burn.

Goody turned and walked back to his horse, certain that Billy hadn’t even noticed him. He hadn’t known his heart could shatter again, but he had been proven wrong.

~

It didn’t matter how much he drank. 

He was in a tiny town on the border between California and Arizona, and had been doing two days of drinking and it had not made it any easier. Getting blackout drunk did however mean that once he passed out he didn’t dream, or at least could neither remember the dreams, nor was he woken up in a cold sweat from them. The dreams had gotten steadily worse and worse.

However the alcohol did nothing while he was awake. Maybe dulled the constant pain in his chest slightly, but he was still thinking. Still running that scene in Hub City on a loop in his mind. Maybe he should have assumed Billy would get a new manager, even before their relationship changed it had been a profitable partnership. Goody arranged the matches so that Billy could show off and earn money, and in the process Goody had earned money as well, which was good because there wasn’t much else he could do. Of course Billy would want that monetary security back.

It hurt though, knowing he had been replaced and part of him wished he hadn’t found out. Hadn’t found Billy again, but the other part of him had just been so happy to see him again, to know he was alive, and well and thriving.

Goody hoped Billy was happy.

~

He was unshaven and hadn’t washed for a couple of days sitting in the back corner of a dimly lit saloon in Coast City when the doors to the saloon swung open and two men arguing stepped inside. It was actually only one of the men berating the other one, walking a step behind him. Goody’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized Billy.

“When I tell you to throw the match you better damn well throw the match,” the stranger in front of Billy said. It wasn’t the same manager as in Hub City, this man was shorter, wearing shabby clothes and had a thick Irish accent.

“I will have no more of this disobedience, and disrespect. Remember I’m the one making sure you get any work at all. Now I’m going to go pack my things, I suggest you do the same.” 

He stomped towards the staircase, while Billy – whose face had been completely impassive during the whole thing – said in a not very low voice, some very creative insults in Korean. The manager couldn’t possibly have missed it, but didn’t turn around and demand a translation, just carried on up the stairs. Goody on the other hand, couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement, because he completely understood what Billy had said. Once ages ago – on a night when they both had been drunk and high, sitting side by side next to their camp fire – Billy had taught Goody a whole bunch of insults in Korean.

Goody hunched in on himself, hoping BIlly hadn’t heard him and wouldn’t see him. However it was still early in the afternoon, and Goody was almost the only one in there. So when Billy whipped around, probably confused that someone had understood, he immediately noticed Goody and started walking over. 

Goody started trembling, his hands sweaty, and he looked down at the glass in front of him. He could see the movement when Billy sat down in the chair opposite from Goody.

“Goody,” Billy said. And oh, Goody had missed his voice, had missed everything about him, and now this reminder. He looked up, and even in the low light Billy was breathtakingly beautiful. He didn’t know what his expression was doing, but he was sure he under no circumstances could have hidden the longing he felt, or the way his heart ached. He just looked at Billy, taking in every gorgeous detail of his face.

“Billy,” Goody said, trying desperately to at least control his voice since it was a losing battle to not look at Billy with all the love in his heart.

“I saw you in Hub City,” Billy said.

“Oh...”

“Are you following me?” Billy asked, he didn’t seem accusing, more amused or perhaps curious. Goody wasn’t sure, his expression didn’t change, but there was something in his voice.

“No, no, of course not,” Goody said quickly, reassuringly. Imagining the flash of hurt in Billy’s eyes. “You made things quite clear, I respect your decision.”

“Goody,” Billy said starting to reach a hand across the table and then stopping.

They both froze staring into each other’s eyes. The table between them felt like an ocean and at the same time like there was nothing between them at all as Goody got lost in Billy’s eyes.

He wanted to tell Billy how much he missed him, but he didn’t dare break this moment with his words.

He couldn’t help wondering if he was dreaming. Hallucinating this vision in front of him, because surely he couldn’t be sitting face to face with Billy. It was wishful thinking come true, and he expected this to be shattered any moment.

It was.

“Hey, Rocks, if I don’t see you in the stable in ten minutes I am leaving you here and taking today’s winnings with me.”

They could hear footsteps and the doors swinging open, neither of them taking their eyes off each other.

“He really is a smelly dog,” Goody said, echoing Billy’s earlier insult. It got him a crooked smile from Billy and Goody felt like his whole body and soul sang at the sight of that smile.

“He is,” Billy said.

“What happened to the manager you had in Hub City?” Goody asked.

“Thought he could take off with all the earnings,” Billy said. “I had to teach him a lesson.”

Goody couldn’t help smiling a little at that, and a small smile graced Billy’s lips for a second before his expression turned neutral again. Billy got up on his feet. Hand reaching out towards Goody, fingertips almost brushing Goody’s unshaved cheek.

“Take care of yourself, Goody.” His hand hung in the air, Billy swallowed hard and Goody watched the movement intently, and then caught Billy’s dark eyes again.

“I,” Goody started and stopped. Billy had been the only one who could make him tongue tied just by existing and in this moment Goody hated that. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t decide on what to start with.

“I should go,” Billy said, his hand dropping to his side but otherwise unmoving. They looked at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Billy,” Goody said eventually, voice cracking.

“I haven’t stopped–” Billy interrupted himself. Licking his lips and swallowing down the rest of his words.

“You haven’t stopped?” Goody prodded. Billy shook his head.

“I know you’re not fond of goodbyes,” Billy said, and it stung in Goody’s chest.

“Billy, I–”

“Goodbye.” 

Billy let out a shaky sigh, took another long look at Goody and then turned on his heels.

“Goodbye, mon amour,” Goody whispered, watching Billy walk away and feeling as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, and he struggled to breathe. He buried his face in his hands and just breathed until the trembling in his body stopped.

~

**One year later**

Goody wasn’t sure what made him go to the Montana territories, but he found himself there in late spring, the pain in his chest only a dull ache now. It had been a year since he last saw Billy in the flesh, but he saw him often in his dreams.

He’d never been particularly drawn to the cowboy lifestyle, cows smelled, he’d always preferred dressing in fancier clothes – perhaps a small case of vanity – and he’d been far too social to completely abandon society, but in the last year the idea of getting away from the crowds had started to appeal to him – he’d also started to dress down considerably, wearing only a simple shirt pants and a duster to replace the grey coat which had been ruined beyond rescue – which was why he had signed up to drive cattle for a Mister Hauser.

“You’ll be taking them from here to this valley over here,” Hauser pointed at the map unrolled on the table. 

They were standing in what he had called his office, but it was in the middle of the kitchen in his farm house, and across the room Mrs. Hauser and the two youngest children were peeling potatoes. 

“And at the end of September I expect you to come back with them, fat and preferably no fewer than you started out with.” 

Hauser was a short thickset man, with reddish blond hair and a bushy red handlebar mustache. Goody rubbed his hand over his own chin, he had recently been giving the clean shaved look a try, but he was missing the beard.

Goody opened his mouth about to ask if he was really supposed to manage all of that alone, sure he had wanted some more solitude, but this did not seem like the job for a single man. but a knock on the kitchen door interrupted. Booth Goody and Hauser looked over to the door.

“Mister Hauser,” the man standing on the other side of the screen door said, he wore a hat, but wavy strands of brown hair was escaping, hanging down in his face and over his ears. He had a relaxed posture, clear blue eyes, his right eyebrow had a small scar going through it and the hair around it growing in every direction. And there was something else about him, itching in the back of Goody’s mind, he seemed awfully familiar, but he didn’t know why. 

“The boys are ready with the roof reparations,” the man said. A faint hint of an accent, buried underneath, Goody suspected years of staying away from home, but it reminded him a little bit of what he had once called home.

“Ah, Dick,” Hauser said. “Dick here will be going with you, it’s his second summer, he’ll be showing you the ropes. Dick, this is Goodnight Robicheaux.”

Dick’s eyes widened a little, and Goody felt his stomach twist. He’d never been above using his reputation from the war in his favor, but he wasn’t looking forward to spending an extended period of time with someone who had heard about him and wanted Goody to tell stories from the war. 

“Just the two of us?” Goody asked Hauser, but Dick was quicker to reply.

“Guarding them in the valley yeah, but Hauser’s older kids will be joining us on the drive there and meeting us up at the end of summer.” He smiled, it was a nice smile Goody had to admit to himself, but what was stranger was that he had definitely seen that smile in the past, and he frowned a little. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to them,” Dick said. And before he knew it he was following Dick out, Hauser excusing himself, and telling Goody that it was just as well Goody started to get used to Dick since they’d be sharing a tent for three months.

Goody was introduced to Hauser’s oldest kids Ginger and Layla Hauser, twenty and eighteen respectively and their brothers, Simon and Martin, twins and tall for their age at sixteen.

“He’s got another set of twins who also want to come, but he thinks they are a bit young still, only fourteen,” Dick told Goody after the introductions were over and they were headed back. Goody wasn’t really paying attention, still having that niggling feeling that he recognized Dick from somewhere.

“You have to excuse me,” Goody said. “It’s just, you are so awfully familiar to me.”

“Well, I should hope so Ethan,” Dick said, and it had been so long since Goody had heard anyone call him by that name instead of Goody or Goodnight that he had almost forgotten about it, and he stumbled a little.

“Wait,” Goody said, and Dick chuckled. “Dick... Richard?” Goody asked, and then had the sudden flash of memory of pushing a boy up against the wall in a stable and kissing them before sinking to his knees. He was much too old to be embarrassed and flush over such thoughts, but he felt his cheeks heat up slightly anyway.

“But, you,” Goody started and then stopped himself from blurting out ‘your family’s rich. You went to university. What are you doing working as a cowboy in Montana of all places?’

“Didn’t expect to meet you again, definitely not see you here,” Dick said.

“Me neither,” Goody said.

~

It only took them a week to get to the valley the cows had spent the spring in, and then another two weeks to ride past forests, lakes and mountains so tall some were still snow capped, to the valley. A meadow nestled in between tall forest clad mountains, and at the far end of the valley a lake which sparkled blue in the early June summer light, the lake fed by a river meandering its way down one of the mountains, the water cold from melted snow and ice, but Dick told him the lake usually stopped being so limb numbingly cold towards the end of summer.

Goody helped out to make camp on the grassy slope, there were traces of old fires, old burnt logs, and sand and rocks placed in a circle, half grown over by grass, and Goody gathered more rocks, filling in the gaps in the circle, and went and gathered an armful of logs and branches from the forest while Dick put up the single tent they’d be sharing. It was perhaps a bit too close quartered than Goody would have preferred. He was also used to sleeping directly underneath the sky further south.

Dick caught him looking at the tent, while just standing there still holding the logs. He smiled reassuringly, and Goody felt embarrassed and annoyed that Dick felt the need to be reassuring.

“It’ll be a bit cramped,” Dick said. “But usually we take turns sleeping anyway, someone has to try and keep an eye on the animals.” The cattle had spread out all over the valley grazing, and Goody was going to need the binoculars they had packed if he wanted to see the cows furthest away. “There aren’t a lot of animal attacks,” Dick continued. “Though they happen, but we’re mostly here as a deterrent against thieves.”

Goody hummed in understanding and agreement, and set down his armful next to the fireplace he had made.

~

That evening they sat by their fire after dinner and drank – Goody had been trying to drink less, had had a few times of relapsing but he was handling it better, didn’t quite feel like he needed to drink until he was numb – it felt normal and at the same time not normal at all. He was so acutely aware that he wasn’t with Billy, and every time he thought about it he could feel that old familiar pang in his chest. He suspected that Dick could tell something was bothering him, but he didn’t ask. 

As a distraction they spoke of old memories, from when they were kids, they had a lot of shared stories from before what had happened when they lost touch. Mostly stories about all the trouble they had gotten each other and both of them into. Goody even found himself laughing at one point. It wasn’t the same, nothing was ever going to be the same, but it felt relaxed and easy, which was what Goody needed.

That night he dreamed of Billy, of the first time they met, of the last time they met.

Dick gave him an odd look when he woke him up, crouched in the tent opening, the low light from a lantern outside the tent just enough to show the strange expression on his face.

“You were whimpering,” Dick said. Goody ignored him and pulled on his coat. “Who is Billy?” Dick asked.

“Everything okay out there?” Goody asked and pushed past Dick.

“Yeah, sure,” Dick said and Goody nodded. Rising up and looking out into the darkness.

“Go to sleep,” Goody said, not looking at Dick, but feeling his eyes on him. Once the rustle of the tent had died down he walked a short distance from it and sat down with his back against a large rock, rifle resting on his thighs.

High above them the new moon was looking down, and somewhere down in the valley a cow lowed.

~

They filled their days with things to do, Goody had more experience of making temporary camp. Dick on the other hand seemed to have the more permanent camp site routine well in hand.

In the evenings they drank and talked, sometimes playing cards. Their topics of conversation always light and breezy, Goody realized again and again the things they stayed away from, but he was quite thankful for that, until the evening about two weeks in when Dick finally brought it up.

“I resented you, you know,” Dick said. Poking into the fire with a stick and a far away look on his face. “For using the fact that I was attracted to men to act out towards your father.”

“I didn’t even know,” Goody said. “I didn’t know that about you I mean. At the time I just thought we were fooling around just to spite our fathers.”

“You were fooling around to spite your father.” 

Robicheaux senior who had been obsessed with image, his pretension of wealth, unlike Richard’s father who had actually had it. Goody’s upbringing had been strict and filled with hypocrisy he as a teenager had rebelled against.

Goody scratched his chin. He’d decided to completely forego shaving, unlike Dick who pulled out a cracked mirror and shaving kit every other morning.

“Yes, I suppose I was,” Goody said, he had known that. It was true that he hadn’t really figured out that Dick’s proclivities were a preference and not just for a lark, he should have figured that out. He hadn’t been terribly bright as a teen. He suspected there were plenty of evidence he wasn’t particularly bright now either.

“I resented that because my father was more well off he could sweep it all under the rug, solve it, as if it even was a problem needed solving, by sending me away from home to university, while you got to stay with your family,” Dick said. He didn’t sound bitter now, but Goody understood that he had been once, and meeting Goody again gave him a way of venting old feelings.

“Though in the end I think maybe it was for the best,” Dick added still looking into the fire, and now shaking his head.

Goody looked away and stared at the fire.

“There was a rumor back home of you joining the union,” Goody said, in a low voice after a long pause.

“I’ve never been home,” Dick said with a shrug, Goody caught out of the corner of his eye. Dick’s voice carefully neutral. Goody wondered if that was confirmation, if that was why the oldest son of a family that stayed rich even after the war was here in Montana as a cowboy.

“I think what I resented most though was you not saying farewell before I left,” Dick said. 

Bringing it all back to how Goody had disappointed him, let him down. Something he had a long experience of doing.

“I couldn’t, my dad wouldn’t let me out of the house,” Goody said.

“And that must have been the first time in your life that you didn’t sneak out,” Dick said, looking up at Goody with an eyebrow quirked.

“It’s been pointed out to me that I am terrible with goodbyes.”

“You could have at least written,” Dick said, not looking away now. Instead looking straight at Goody with an intense expression. “I wrote you and you never even replied.” He snorted. “I meant nothing to you didn’t I?”

“That’s not true,” Goody protested. “Not true at all. It hurt when you left, and I–” he swallowed. “I came so close to realizing, but I couldn’t actually acknowledge it to myself. You say you were the only one attracted to men, but I was too.”

“All you ever talked about were Edith and how sweet you were on her,” Dick said with a shake of his head. “I heard you even got engaged to her. You getting your dream girl, and your father’s wish for you to marry up getting fulfilled.”

“I broke off the engagement,” Goody said. He hadn’t thought about Edith in years, had forgotten about her if he was brutally honest with himself. He had written her a letter telling her the engagement was off, it had been in the middle of the war, hadn’t wanted her to wait and hope only to be crushed when she was told he was dead. He hadn’t returned home after the war either.

“Wrote her a letter, short to the point no frills or flowery words. You knew me, always had a way with words, but I can never seem to find them when it matters.” He sighed and looked into the fire. Thinking about Billy. The last time they met. About the things he left unsaid.

“I was the same as you,” Goody said. “I still am I– I met… I met the love of my life.” Goody closed his eyes against the burn that felt like impending tears. “He took my breath away,” he said reverently. “He stole my heart and...” he trailed off.

“What happened?” Dick asked, voice suddenly surprisingly gentle.

“I happened,” Goody said, with a snort. “My habit of ruining all the relationships I’ve ever had. My inability to say goodbye properly.”

“Maybe you should try and do something differently then?”

“What?”

“You love this man right? Love him still?”

Goody nodded, afraid if he opened his mouth a cascade of words would come bursting out, an incoherent mess of emotions.

“Write to him. Write down all you feel, all your mistakes and apologize.”

“It is too late,” Goody said with a shake of his head.

“That doesn’t matter write it anyway,” Dick said, surprisingly insistent.

“I won’t know what to say.” Goody sighed. “I told you, finding the words when it matters, I can’t...”

“Have you tried?”

“No.”

“Then try.”

Dick made it seem so simple. Goody shook his head.

“I don’t know where he is, I won’t know where to send it.”

“You should write it anyway.”

Goody looked over at Dick who was looking at him with such an earnest expression.

“Why?” Goody asked.

“Because it’s the only way you will break this habit of yours.”

“No, why are you giving me advice? Why are you not only polite but nice?”

Dick shrugged.

“Holding a grudge takes too much energy.”

“You are too good. Far too good for me.”

“Yes, I am” Dick said, and grinned. And Goody couldn’t hold back the surprised bark of laughter.

~

Goody didn’t start writing a letter right away, nor did he spend much time thinking about it, except for on occasion when he tried and failed to think of what to say, and so he put it off.

It was an uneventful summer. Four weeks in, the kids Layla and Simon came riding with more food and stayed for a couple of nights. Dick and Goody helped a couple of cows give birth. Most of the time they sat around either talking or just sat there in silence each one doing their thing. They had both brought a few books each which they read when they weren’t busy with other things, and over the course of the summer swapped books with each other, they had a reasonably similar taste in reading materials.

In late July, early August after a summer of mostly warm days and sunshine the lake was a nice temperature for bathing and Goody took advantage of it. In July Dick joined Goody in not really shaving. While Goody wasn’t shaving off the beard he still kept it nicely trimmed and short, when it had finally stopped itching.

They got more and more rainy days. Days that started out with grey sky and heavy fog obscuring the mountain tops. Wisps of mist hanging above the lake, and the days grew shorter and shorter, nights growing longer, darker and colder. Goody shivered sitting in the dark, and more and more often they would both of them spend time in the tent at the same time, because it was just too cold to sit outside.

Hauser’s kids showed up on one of the few nice days as September started to reach its end, and they rounded up the cattle and headed for the auction in Gateway City.

Once he’d been paid Goody stayed in Gateway, not really having other plans he got himself a room at the local hotel. A couple of days later on the same date as he had first met Billy he got blind drunk, and once he had stumbled back to his room scribbled a note for Billy on a piece of paper. It was mostly incomprehensible gibberish he discovered the next day when he read it, but the last thing he had written before he had passed out was: ‘I love you, God damn you I still love you’.

That day after he’d had breakfast and the pounding headache had calmed down he went down to the lobby got himself a thick sheaf of papers and he sat down at the desk in his room and started writing.

~

Crumpled balls of paper started to litter the old dark wood floor, a broken pencil on the desk, and a glass had shattered against the wall, whiskey had trickled down and formed a small pool among the shards on the floor.

It had been the small hours of the night when Goody had put his head down on the desk, just to rest his eyes for a bit, but when he opened them again, lifting his head and having a piece of paper stuck to his cheek and crick in his neck, the sun was shining through the window. The street outside had started to wake up, voices of people talking, footsteps as they walked past the window, bird song from just outside Goody’s window. He looked at the paper he held in his hand, the one he’d fallen asleep on top of, at least it had sentences that made some sort of semblance of sense, but it wasn’t… It still felt like disjointed ideas rather than something of any vital substance.

Sighing he put his elbows on the desk and hid his face in his hands. What was even the point, he wondered. With a frustrated noise he shoved the chair back, creaking and dragging against uneven floorboards.

After a walk to a saloon, and the purchase of a bottle of the strongest stuff they had, which he brought back to his room he went back to writing. After some wild writing during a drunken stupor he passed out again, and upon waking realized the reason it felt like he had written a masterpiece was because every line he’d written were quotes from different poems.

He sighed and crumpled the paper into a ball tossing it on the floor. Maybe drinking and writing was a bad combination.

He thought about the lines of poetry. Billy had never seemed to mind Goody reciting poetry at him; he’d even requested certain verses on occasion, telling Goody he had a good voice for it. There had been times when they both struggled to sleep, when Goody would read to Billy. They’d be sitting leaning against a wall if the were indoors, or against a rock or a tree if they were outside. Billy sitting between Goody’s spread legs, leaning against Goody’s chest, his head resting against his shoulder, and Goody would hold the book and read over Billy’s shoulder.

There was a stab of cold pain in his chest, and he went to bed, curled up under a blanket and fell asleep.

He had lost track of time when he woke up, but it was pitch black outside. He made his way to the desk, blanket over his shoulders, pushing away the crumpled bits of paper with his feet and sat down. Lighting the kerosene lamp on the desk he looked at the blank piece of paper on the desk. Maybe he shouldn’t be taking poetry for others, just because Billy enjoyed them, it clearly wasn’t the way to accurately describe how Goody felt. No instead he should be writing his own poetry.

After a couple of hours of thinking of rhymes for Billy – silly, filly, lily, shrilly, coquille, involuntarily – rejecting them all. Writing about ten different similis about Billy’s hair how it looked when it blew in the wind, and glowed in the sun. And composing a frankly embarrassing poem about his own feelings he decided to give up. The sun was rising anyway.

~

A couple of days later Simon Hauser rode into town, looking to hire a couple of men for some building project back at the ranch. Goody, who was mostly just drifting from saloon to saloon accompanied him, and a few other men to the ranch where some were set to repair the roof on the house, and Goody ended up getting the job of helping out replacing a two mile stretch of fence.

“So how are things?” Dick asked during a short break in the afternoon a day later when he’d come over from helping out with the roof.

“I decided to try and write a letter,” Goody said with a sigh.

“Oh, and how’s that going?”

“Terrible,” Goody said. “I don’t know what to say, or how to say it, or what is even the point.”

“It doesn’t have to be so complicated,” Dick said. “Just pour your heart out onto the page.”

“But it lacks structure.”

Dick gave him a look.

“It doesn’t need structure. Write what comes to mind.”

~

Goody returned to Gateway a couple of weeks later after finishing the fence, and doing the odd job here and there. If Hauser was willing to part from his money to have Goody do things he wasn’t saying no. He got himself a new room at the hotel and lingered in the city, not sure why, but he stayed long enough for snow to start to fall and he didn’t see a reason to force either himself or his horse to trudge through that to head south to warmer climes again.

Instead he spent the winter inside, putting thoughts to paper. He wrote down everything when it came to him. Long passages of memories, of their time spent together, of his time before Billy. Wrote down about the emptiness. Wrote about regret and the many times he had messed up others lives as much as his own. Wrote from the heart, opened himself up and let all the raw emotions and feelings out onto the paper. He asked for forgiveness, but as winter continued into the new year, he struggled with how to end it.

He left it alone and entertained himself in other ways the last of the winter months, thinking of the letter less and less. He was feeling less empty having poured out his thoughts into the letter. He felt lighter having written it all, to have finally poured it all out of him. Like all of those emotions had been a heavy weight keeping him down, but now he walked, breathed easier all of a sudden. As spring rolled around he was even feeling like he could stand to be around people again. He’d spent hours in the saloon telling tall tales for anyone who wished to listen, and once he’d plied them with drink there were quite a lot of people wishing to be entertained by one of his stories.

He got hired to do some more work around the Hauser ranch, where Dick commented on his changing disposition. Goody gave him a wry crooked smile.

“It’s spring,” Goody said, “the sun returned and I felt I had perhaps wallowed long enough in self pity.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

That night he returned to his hotel room and finished the letter.

“I will always love you,” Goody murmured before writing it down. “But I think I’m finally ready to move on.”

He placed the many pieces of paper inside an envelope, wrote ‘Billy Rocks’ on it and sealed it up. Then sat there at his desk staring at the envelope and Billy’s name written on it. 

There wasn’t anywhere to send it. It wasn’t as if Billy had an address, or maybe he did now and Goody didn’t know about it. No way of knowing. Didn’t know where he was, he could be anywhere in the country.

He put the letter in his breast pocket, so he could keep it close to his heart. But perhaps, he thought the letter had been more for his own benefit rather than something he’d potentially ever send anyway. He wondered if that had been what Dick had expected would happen when he suggested it.

~

In April the oldest Hauser daughter got married, an event that didn’t directly affect Goody, but which would open up a job opportunity as Dick put it when they met up for drinks at the saloon in Gateway.

“She’s going to stay at the ranch,” Dick said, and drank from his pint. “Her plan is still to take it over once her old man goes, as she is the oldest,” Dick smiled a little. “Hauser probably thinks he’s just indulging a whim of hers, but I’m pretty sure she’s dead set on it. Anyway, it means a new house has to be built on the property, and we could use another set of hands.”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing but time and could always use the money,” Goody said with a shrug drinking from his glass. Dick gave him a questioning look.

“How long do you think you’ll be staying around here?” he asked.

“Want to get rid of me?” Goody asked. Dick snorted.

“Just curious. Expected you’d be out of here as soon as the snow had melted.”

Most of the snow had melted, and no more had fallen for a week and a half. Making his way through the mountains south should be easy by now.

“Guess the wanderlust hasn’t struck me again,” Goody said with shrug. Dick accepted this with a nod, and they spoke or a while longer about the plans for the house. They finished their drinks and Goody walked over to the bar to get the second round.

He was waiting there when a young man, probably no more than his late twenties, with high sharp cheekbones, dark hair and brown eyes came up to him, smiling.

“Evening, I’m Charles Jasper, but my friends call me Charlie.”

Goody felt a little taken aback, but he was normally friendly to those friendly to him, and so he smiled.

“Well, hello there Charles, Name’s Goodnight, but my friends call me Goody.”

“Interesting name you’ve got, Goody,” Charles said, and Goody thought he imagined how his voice got lower almost purring at the end. “I’ve seen you around here before and wanted to introduce myself.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, mostly Charles talking in a low voice, looking up at Goody through his eyelashes and it took Goody an embarrassing long time to figure out what was going on, but when he did he felt his whole body go hot and he felt his limbs start to tremble. He swallowed hard and lifted his head, gaze flicking around until he spotted Dick, and then looked away when he caught Dick’s eyes.

He looked back at Charles who was right in Goody’s personal space, telling Goody about something, Goody had completely tuned him out, all sound was just white noise at this point. His hands felt clammy, and the back of his neck was hot with sweat. A second later Dick stood there saying something in an apologetic tone to Charles, and then put a hand on Goody’s arm steering him out through the door.

The cold air outside was a balm on his forehead, he shrugged off Dick’s arm and started to walk down the street at a fast pace. He heard the shuffling of feet that meant Dick was following him. Goody was breathing hard and shaking his head at himself, at how foolish his reaction was.

“Was he,” he started. “He was flirting me with me, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” Dick confirmed. They were close to the hotel and Goody stopped walking and gave Dick an incredulous look.

“Why?” Goody asked. “He had to have been half my age.”

“Gateway’s big but it’s not that big. The options are limited,” Dick said with a shrug. Goody narrowed his eyes.

“What’s that suppo– nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

He leaned against a house wall, letting his head tilt up so the back of it hit the wood behind him.

“I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t– I wasn’t ready for that.”

“You don’t have to be ready for it,” Dick said.

“I can’t believe I reacted like this,” Goody muttered dropping his head forward and looking down at his feet.

“Goody,” Dick said gently, and Goody couldn’t remember when Dick had started to call him Goody instead of Ethan. He tilted his head up and Dick was giving him a small kind reassuring smile.

“It gets easier, not just this, but everything. It will get easier.”

“Thank you,” Goody said.

“Any time,” Dick said. He followed Goody to the hotel, and said good night. Goody started to walk inside, patting his breast pocket where he still carried the letter.

~

May came rolling in with sunshine and an unexpected wave of heat more fit for July, and Goody got a sunburn on his shoulders and back from working outside without a shirt. The short heatwave was followed up by a two day thunderstorm, where the rumbling of the thunder seemed to shake all the window panes in Gateway, and lightning criss crossed in the sky lighting up the indigo blue and deep purple clouds. Then came the wind and rain. Gusts of wind that had the roofs rattling, and big fat raindrops that got everything wet and when the sun peeked out through the clouds a week later the whole world smelled new and different.

The heat had broken with the rain, and Goody once again wore a long sleeved shirt and his coat when he went to the ranch the day before they were set to depart with the cows. When Dick had asked if Goody was going to spend the summer guarding the cows again he had considered saying no, saying he was leaving anyway, but since there was nothing urgent calling to him from the south, he’d decided he could leave after the summer.

The work on the house had stalled during the storm, and he worked the last day on it. It wasn’t finished, but would be by the time Goody and Dick returned after the summer.

“Come on,” Goody said to Dick in the afternoon, after Hauser had paid him for the work on the house. “Let’s go into town. I’ll buy the drinks.”

It was still light outside when they got to Gateway, the sun only just starting to sink. And when they came riding over the ridge Goody spotted a crowd gathered around one of the empty cow pens. Dick had also seen it as he pointed.

“Wanna check out what’s going on?” 

Goody shrugged. He supposed the drinking could wait a little bit.

They left their horses and made their way into the crowd.

“What’s happening?” Dick asked one of the men.

In the pen one of the locals, Goody thought his name might be Jerry or Terry, or something was pacing back and forth, visibly mumbling to himself and fingers tapping on the handle of his gun.

“Quick draw competition, this stranger rode into town earlier. He’s already beaten both Burt and Randall Jeeter”

Goody tensed, surely it couldn’t be? Why would he be this far north? He pushed himself towards the fence and he was vaguely aware that Dick might be following him, but he wasn’t really paying attention to him, because the challenger was striding into the pen. Goody grasped the top of the fence in a grip that was slowly becoming white knuckled, and his breath got caught in his throat.

Spurs jangled softly as the man walked on muscular legs, that same belt filled with sheaths for knives hanging on narrow hips, black vest over a white pinstripe shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the lower arms. The top few buttons were unbuttoned and Goody could see the tan skinned, glowing a little from the sweat and the sun which seemed to shine on him and him alone. His hair was put up underneath his hat, but a few strands had come loose and were wafting in the gentle breeze. His angular face set in a carefully neutral expression, but those familiar dark intense eyes were taking in everything around him, calculating. Goody knew when Billy spotted him, because his eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but then he faced his opponent. Goody exhaled shakily and closed his eyes.

“Goody?” Dick asked in a low voice. Goody swallowed hard and opened his eyes. It had been two years, he wasn’t going to miss watching a single second of Billy. His heart had started beating faster.

“It’s him,” Goody mumbled. More to himself than answering Dick. “It’s really him.” And he stared in wonder at Billy getting himself ready to draw. That relaxed posture that hid how his muscles were coiled up ready for attack.

Beside him Dick breathed in a sound of understanding and fell silent.

In the ring Billy won easily, Jerry or Terry not even close to a match to Billy’s skill.

On the inside Goody his mind was reeling with the overwhelming whirlpool of emotions. Want slammed into him like a train and all he wanted was to reach out. He took a shuddering breath and turned away. He had thought he had started to move on, that he could in fact move on, but now seeing him again. As beautiful and skilled as the first time he saw him and fell for him. He wasn’t so sure he could. 

Behind him people were moving about scuffing and annoyed about losing their money, and in the ring someone introduced themselves as Billy’s manager – a different voice from the last one – was asking if anyone else was willing to test their skill against his client’s, and the crowd round Goody moved forward with people eager to try. Thinking they were going to prove themselves, and Goody knowing none of them would win.

Goody slipped away from the crowd, he thought he could hear Dick’s voice but he ignored him, and it was easy enough to lose him the throng of the crowd. He hurried towards the nearest livery, the sound of gunfire behind him almost made him flinch. He walked around the building and leaned back against it, fumbling for his flask, pulling it out and drinking deeply from it. The alcohol burning down his throat and the warmth spreading through his chest and stomach.

“Running away again,” he muttered disdainfully.

He closed the flask, and considered throwing it away but instead placed hit back in his coat before patting his breast pocket. The sound of his shirt against the paper of the envelope a reassuring sound, it was still there. He wondered if he could actually give it to Billy. His last words in it had been that he was ready to move on, but if just seeing Billy threw him off. Maybe he wasn’t ready, maybe he’d been telling himself he was, lying to himself. He had always been good at lying to himself, both consciously and subconsciously.

He slammed his head back hard against the wall. Pain cutting through his head, clearing it and he opened his eyes, taking a deep breath. Steeling himself he walked back towards the crowd. It had been two years, he didn’t know if he would ever see him again after this, he was going to watch him.

Ha made his way through the crowd again at a different spot. One where he had an even better view of Billy’s face. Goody stood there and watched Billy beat man after man who showed up to challenge him, seemingly with ease he drew faster than every single one of them. Soon the crowd started thinning as people got tired of losing and left.

Soon Goody was the only one left and he spotted Billy’s new manager heading towards him, when Billy put a hand on his arm, saying a few words and the man shrugged and walked to the bags and horses that presumably belonged to him and Billy. Goody straightened and watched as Billy started to walk towards him.

Billy stopped when he reached Goody, only the fence between them and he looked Goody over from head to toe.

“Goody,” Billy said, something uncertain in his voice, like he wasn’t quite sure about what he was seeing. Goody smiled warmly at him, because his heart was singing from just seeing him; from standing near him; from hearing his voice.

“Didn’t expect to see you this far north,” Goody said.

“Could say the same for you,” Billy said.

“I’ve been here a while now actually,” Goody said. “A year.” Billy frowned.

“You,” he said, “live here?”

“For now.”

Billy sucked on his bottom lip for a second giving Goody a look and then said,

“I’ll be here for a couple of days, maybe we could,” he hesitated. “Meet up. Talk.”

“I– Oh, Billy,” Goody said, his stomach twisting. “I want that, please believe me, but I’m leaving tomorrow and don’t return until the end of summer.”

“Oh.” Something seemed to fall in Billy’s expression, and Goody’s heart ached with how badly he wanted to reach out and touch him.

“I’m sorry I won’t get to see more of you humiliating the locals by beating everyone,” Goody said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t beat all of them,” Billy said wryly.

“Oh?”

Billy looked away biting his bottom lip, breathing out hard through his nose.

“I–” he looked back at Goody. “I saw you leave, it–” he licked his lips. “It distracted me.”

“I’m sorry,” Goody said. Billy shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, only means more people will think they have a chance to beat me,” there was a self satisfied smirk just waiting on his lips.

“No, I mean,” Goody started, “I’m sorry I’m always running away.”

There was a long pause as they just looked at each other.

“Goody, I–” Billy started lifting his hands and gripping the fence, his fingers brushing Goody’s on top of the wooden slat. He was interrupted by his manager.

“Billy!” he shouted. “I’ll head up to the hotel.”

“Fine!” Billy called back. He looked back at Goody. Several strands of hair had gotten loose and was hanging down over one eye.

“Goody,” Billy started and paused as Goody reached out and pushed the hair away, tucking it behind Billy’s ear, his hand trembling, and heart beating rapidly and he had trouble breathing.

“Billy, I–” His finger tips brushed the smooth skin of Billy’s jaw and a jolt went through him. He pulled his hand back quickly, and without really thinking about it decided he would give Billy the letter. “I wrote, Dick suggested I should write a letter,” Goody said and reached for his breast pocket.

_“Who is, Dick?”_

“Here,” Gody pulled out the letter and pushed it at Billy, who took it automatically without looking at it, instead he had a strange conflicted expression on his face, which Goody didn’t quite understand, as he looked straight at Goody.

“Goody,” someone else suddenly called out, and Goody’s head whipped around to where Dick was standing with the horses.

“I should,” Goody started and looked back at Billy, his breath getting caught in his throat again.

The last rays of the setting sun was bathing Billy in red and gold, and he was stunning.

“Dear, lord you are beautiful,” Goody whispered before he could stop himself. “I thought– I thought I could move on, but seeing you now– I should go.”

“Goody,” Billy said, almost urgently, a hand landing on top of Goody’s, and then he hesitated, biting his bottom lip. And Goody looked into Billy’s eyes for a long moment.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I ever brought onto you,” Goody said, and looked away.

“I– I don–”

“Billy!” The manager interrupted again. “Do you have the keys to the rooms?”

Billy turned towards him, and Goody let go of the fence taking a step back.

“In a moment,” Billy snapped towards his manager. Head whipping back towards Goody.

“Goodbye Billy Rocks,” Goody said, forcing a crooked smile. “Getting to know you changed my life for the better.”

With strength he didn’t know he possessed he turned around and walked away. Every step heavy.

He reached the horses, feeling short of breath, and like his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest, his whole body trembling.

“I didn’t realize, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Dick said.

“No, I needed to get away from him before I did something stupid, like kiss him.” He sighed and turned the horse away from Gateway. “Let’s head back to the ranch. We have an early start tomorrow.”

~

Three and a half weeks later found him sitting outside the tent, in the morning sun, finishing his cup of coffee and stitching a rip in his pants. The three weeks of non stop riding and herding the cattle had kept his mind too busy to worry about things, but after a couple of days of nothing much happening at all in the valley, it was pretty much impossible to stay distracted. Not even mending clothes was mind numbing enough.

He wondered if Billy had read the letter. If he’d ignored it and forgotten. Burned it. If he did read it, what did he think? Lord, it had been stupid. He had been stupid. He should probably be forbidden from speaking to anyone ever again.

There was a rustling from the tent behind him, and Goody assumed it was Dick coming out, and then he heard him make an annoyed noise. He turned his head and saw Dick shirt half buttoned, inspecting a rip in the shirt.

“Typical,” Dick muttered.

“Give it here,” Goody said. “I might as well do yours too while I’m at it.”

“Thanks,” Dick said. Stripping off the shirt and handed it to Goody, leaving him shirtless. They were the same age, but looking at Dick he could have easily been ten – if he was generous to himself – fifteen – if he was more honest – years younger.

Dick tilted his head to the side, looking towards the road to and from the valley.

“You hear that?” Dick asked.

Goody cocked his head too, there was a rhythmic thud, the familiar beat of a horses galloping.

Dick reached for the binoculars lying beside Goody, and looked through them.

“Two riders,” Dick said.

“A bit early in the summer for the Hauser kids to come visit,” Goody said. When he too could make out the horses approaching Dick said.

“What did you write in that letter?”

“What?” Goody asked. A jolt going down his spine and he sat up straighter.

“Because one of the riders is your former paramour and he is looking very intense.”

Goody did not say ‘that’s just how he looks’ instead he got to his feet and reached for the binoculars. Dick handed them over, and looking through them he could confirm that it was Billy. The other rider was Layla Hauser who turned her horse towards the lake instead, while Billy continued straight for the camp. Goody felt cold and hot flashes course through his body, unsure what he was supposed to feel.

Billy reined in his horse and stopped a little distance away. He dismounted, and came stalking over.

“Billy, I didn’t expect-” Goody started.

Billy stopped in front of Goody.

“Goody, I–” He glanced over and spotted Dick, stopped talking and his eyes narrowed.

“I’m going to go and, not be here,” Dick said, and hurried away.

“I don’t like him,” Billy said bluntly, and Goody wasn’t entirely sure Dick was out of hearing distance when he said it.

“You haven’t even met him,” Goody chided gently.

“Don’t need to,” Billy muttered, still glaring after the man.

“He’s a nice man,” Goody said with a shrug and sat down to keep stitching the pants to keep his hands busy. Billy snorted and sat down as well, opposite from Goody.

“All the more reason to not be too trusting,” Billy said, like that made any sort of sense.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you are jealous,” Goody said, carefully not looking at Billy, who snorted loudly again.

“Give me,” Billy said.

“I know how to stitch a tear,” Goody protested, but his voice was light.

“I’m better at it,” Billy said. Which was true, but Goody wasn’t going to admit it. “At least give me that shirt,” Billy said and then grabbed the second needle from the kit next to Goody, as well as some thread. Goody handed over Dick’s shirt, Billy took it and looked at it with a small frown, before he started.

“You never used to wear patterned shirts,” Billy muttered to himself. Goody looked up at him and held back a smile. “Didn’t use to be your style,” Billy continued.

“It’s not my shirt,” Goody said mildly, still not smiling but looking at Billy. Who dropped his hands and shirt to his lap, looking up at Goody looking so utterly offended that Goody couldn’t help the short bark of laughter, which only earned him a glare from Billy. 

Goody smiled and looked down at his hands as he kept stitching, but he glanced over and over again at Billy who was stabbing angrily at he shirt, and probably doing the worst job he’d ever done of stitching something together. He’d done a better job when Goody had taken a bullet in the arm and Billy had stitched it up with neat even stitches, while telling Goody how stupid he had been.

“What are you doing here?” Goody asked eventually, when he couldn’t stop himself any longer. Not looking at Billy.

“I wanted to–” Billy started and sighed. Goody looked up at him, he had a pained expression on his face and Goody almost reached out for him. “It– It would have been so much easier if I had just stopped loving you,” Billy said. Goody’s heart swelled because it was so easily swayed by the tiniest hint of hope.

“I spent two years trying and trying to not love you, but I missed you,” Billy said. Closing his eyes. “I missed you,” said like it physically hurt him.

“Billy–”

“Shut up, you wrote a letter you’ve said everything already.”

Goody shut up. But he was watching Billy intently. Billy who was staring at the ground.

“You said you were going to move on. I–” Billy said, “I spent the last two years telling myself you had probably moved on and tried to pretend that would make me happy.” He looked up a Goody. Eyes dark and hurt. “But it only ripped my heart to pieces even more. I walked away from you twice and both times it hurt more than any bullet that has ever hit me. It felt like I left pieces of my heart with you. And then to hear you actually say you were ready to move on.” 

Billy closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, biting his lips, looking like he was in actual pain. “I’m supposed to be happy about it, about you moving on with some guy named _Dick–_ ”

“It’s really not like that,” Goody started to protest.

“Shut up.”

Goody shut up again.

“I have no right to feel like this,” Billy said. “I was the one who left. I– I had a reason. It seemed like a good reason at the time. I don’t have any right...” he trailed off. “I made it seem... made it seem like I didn’t want to see you again, and maybe at the time I felt that way, and you–” he took a deep breath and looked at him. “You left me alone. Because of course you did. Because I told you to. But I–” he sighed. “I changed my mind. Not about my worries. Those I still had, but whether or not it would be worth it, because I–” He looked at Goody with imploring eyes. “I still love you. I missed you.” He sighed again, and then let out a dry chuckle, looking down at the ground again. “I started playing these imaginary scenarios to myself, where you would come after me anyway. You would track me down despite what I had told you...”

“Oh, Billy I–”

“I know... I know. You thought you were respecting my wishes and I’m just– It’s so irrational,” Billy groaned. “I know I’m irrational. But I never stopped loving you, I couldn’t move on. I still wanted you. I’m sorry.”

“Love makes fools of us all,” Goody said. “And I am sorry for what I put you through, you have nothing to apologize to me for.

Billy looked at him again. Expression raw and open.

“Goody…”

“I love you, mon coeur,” Goody said.

He surged forward meeting Billy who was also leaning forward. Mouths meeting in a frantic desperate kiss. Goody grabbed hold of the back of Billy’s head, burying his fingers in his hair. The other hand going to Billy’s shoulder gripping the shirt fabric tightly. Billy grabbed onto the front of Goody’ shirt, and held on. 

The kiss was messy and utterly wonderful. Goody’s heart soared. So many months of missing this, of missing his Billy, and here he was. It felt like he was dreaming. He let Billy push him down onto his back in the grass. The hard ground uncomfortable, but he relished the reminder that he was awake. This was no dream, no fantasy. It was reality, and in this reality Billy was in his arms again.

It took him a moment to realize the desperate almost pained noises were coming from him, or that the salty taste was tears trickling down to their mouths. It felt like his heart was bursting from his chest with all the emotions inside of him. Billy’s mouth was warm and familiar, and Goody delighted in exploring it again. Running his tongue over his teeth, and deeper into Billy’s mouth. They gasped into each others mouths, and Goody wrapped his arms around Billy, holding him tight. Squeezing him against his chest, never wanting to let go ever again.

“Billy,” Goody whispered when he pulled away a little, and he almost didn’t recognize his voice it sounded so completely wrecked.

“Right here,” Billy whispered, sounding just as wrecked. “I love you,” Billy’s voice cracked. “Oh lord,” said on an explosive breath, “I love you with all my heart.” He pulled back just enough to look at Goody. “So beautiful.”

Goody put his palm against Billy’s cheek.

“I want to hold you forever and never let you go,” Goody whispered.

“I’d be okay with that.”

Goody smiled, and in return Billy gave him a most brilliant smile. Goody rolled them over, kissed him, and kissed him until they were breathless lying in the grass gasping for breath in between laughter.

~

They managed to eventually compose themselves and sit up next to each other, with just a hint of space between them. For appearance sake.

“How did you know where to look for me?” Goody asked. Tying off the thread on the pants.

“Asked around. Once I was pointed in the Hauser family’s direction I told them that you’d been my previous manager and that I needed to hire you back because my recent one just quit on me.”

“Did you fire him?” Goody asked with a small smile.

“Yes, he was incompetent,” Billy said, dismissively.

“How many managers have you gone through?” Goody asked. Billy shrugged.

“Stopped counting. Would you believe you are the only decent manager in all of America?”

“You could just be really picky,” Goody suggested.

“I actually considered that approach,” Billy said musingly. “I was actually looking for you, to be honest. And I was thinking that maybe I should offer our former business deal. At least that way I’d still get to be close to you.”

“I would have accepted,” Goody said, “and it would probably have broken my heart daily to be so close, and yet not close enough.”

“I know, once I read the letter I pretty much threw out that idea completely.” He looked at Goody and smiled. “I think my backup plan is working out better already.”

Goody smiled back.

“So, you went to the Hausers and told them you needed to find me to offer me a job and Layla offered to show you the way?”

“Pretty much, and she’s here to take over for you when you leave with me.”

“ _When?_ ” Goody asked amused.

“Well, I said _‘if’_ to the Hausers.”

Goody laughed, and Billy grinned at him. When he stopped laughing he heard footsteps approaching and Billy started frowning. Goody reluctantly looked away from him, but if he didn’t he’d start laughing at Billy’s expression.

“So,” Dick said when he sat down opposite them.

“Looks like I’ll be leaving sooner than I thought,” Goody said. Dick smiled.

“I’m happy for you man,” he said. Shooting a glance at Billy.

“There’s really no need for the glaring,” Dick said. Billy snorted.

“Ignore him,” Goody said to them both.

“We should leave,” Billy said. Goody who had been looking at him blinked slowly.

“We in a rush?”

Billy didn’t answer, just got to his feet. Goody looked at Billy.

“Did I at least get paid for the time I’ve already worked?” Goody asked.

“No,” Billy said. Goody sighed but got to his feet. As did Dick, and Goody turned to him.

“It was a pleasure meeting you again. And I just want to again apologize on behalf of my teenage self. He was an idiot,” he paused. “I haven’t really improved that much, to be honest.”

“It was surprisingly pleasant meeting you again,” Dick said.

“I’d say I’ll see you around,” Goody said, “but that seems unlikely to happen.” He shot a quick glance at Billy standing next to him, the impassive expression ruined by the frown, and clenched jaw.

“Goodbye,” Dick said.

“Goodbye.”

They started walking towards their horses, Billy’s still saddled, but Goody was going to have to get his ready first.

“You know, instead of standing right there while I said goodbye, you could have gone and started preparing the horses,” Goody suggested.

“Didn’t want to leave you. Don’t trust him,” Billy said.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Dick called out.

“Yes,” Billy said. Goody shook his head but he smiled a little, and went to saddle his horse.

Soon enough they were leaving the valley. Riding side by side, and Goody had to laugh a little, because it felt so right. He glanced to his side, and his heart jumped at just being able to glance to his side and see Billy, but it jumped even higher at seeing Billy grinning back at him.

“So, south?” Billy asked. Goody nodded.

“South,” Goody said. “I’d like to see Texas again,” he licked his lips. “For sentimentality.”

“Sure,” Billy said.

“I love you,” Goody said.

“I love you,” Billy said and smiled.

Warmth curled in Goody’s chest, and they rode on, heading south side by side, and everything was as it should be.


End file.
